


Winter Babysitter

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Virgin Tony Stark, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: Imagine Bucky as Tony's jealous & over-protective body guard because when Winter Soldier was sent to kill the Starks, the HYDRA conditioning semi-snapped halfway through & Maria&Howard took advantage. So WS!Bucky protects Tony from everything. But this year, it's his 21st bday & Tony won't let Bucky interfere in the plan to pick up a stranger & finally lose his virginity. Ofc WS!Bucky has no intention of letting some random get that close to his Tony.</span>
</p><p>When he finds himself presented with a memory of his time with HYDRA, instead of recoiling in horror, these days the Winter Soldier tends to sigh wistfully. It was all so much simpler back then. Some jerk gives you a target, some bullets, winds you up like the good little automaton you were meant to be, and off you go. If everything went according to plan, people were dead, and you went back on ice. Rinse, repeat.</p><p>It’d worked out pretty great for quite some time, right up until the last mission two years ago, where everything went particularly pear shaped thanks to Howard Smartypants Stark. Next thing he knew, he was no longer the guy you thawed out when shit needed to get real—he was a glorified babysitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted over on [imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/). Be sure to stop on over and also enjoy the amazing contributions of [Potrix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix), [27dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons), [InnerCinema](http://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema), and [kamaete](http://kamaete.tumblr.com/)!

When he finds himself presented with a memory of his time with HYDRA, instead of recoiling in horror, these days the Winter Soldier tends to sigh wistfully. It was all so much simpler back then. Some jerk gives you a target, some bullets, winds you up like the good little automaton you were meant to be, and off you go. If everything went according to plan, people were dead, and you went back on ice. Rinse, repeat.

It’d worked out pretty great for quite some time, right up until the last mission two years ago, where everything went particularly pear shaped thanks to Howard Smartypants Stark. Next thing he knew, he was no longer the guy you thawed out when shit needed to get real—he was a glorified babysitter.

“Stupid, halfassed brainwashing,” he grumbled.

It’s the day before Tony Stark turns twenty-one, and he seems to be hell bent on destroying what is left of the Soldier’s sanity. It’s been hard enough keeping the kid alive the last two years, and now he’ll be able to buy booze legally, and that  _can’t_  be good.

If he was dealing with a normal about-to-be-twenty-one-year-old, he’d probably find himself playing bouncer at a shitty party, where the biggest concern was someone getting wasted and puking in the pool. But his Tony? No way, the kid doesn’t really  _do_  friends anymore. And while he used to party with strangers quite a bit when the Soldier first came on the scene, that has died down.

In fact, Tony has sort of died down over the last few months, and it confuses him, because he can’t figure out why. Most of the time he walks around the place with his head down. Literally. The Soldier has had to jump into action to keep him from walking into a wall more than once this month alone.

Because that is his job now, keeping Tony Sexypants Stark safe, and he knows for a fact that some of the compulsion is from Howard monkeying with his programming, but he’s not stupid enough to not realize the rest of it is all him.

He looks at Tony, with his puppy eyes and messy hair and madcap smile, and wants to stockpile ammunition and lock the guy in a Tower, so no one can come near him. No one but him, that is. Which… makes him extremely uncomfortable, because he’s got almost ten (biological) years on Tony, and besides, it’d probably creep the guy out to no end to know the person watching his back is also watching his backside.

“I’ve got it narrowed down to these few,” Tony explains, chewing his thumbnail, lost in thought.

“How about dinner with Rhodes instead of going to some nightclub?”

Tony looks up at him like he’s a moron. “It’s my birthday, and I just… I want to go out, have a little fun. I’m following the fucking rules by telling you, aren’t I?” He stands there, looking distraught, and the Soldier fights down the compulsion to pull him into a hug, comfort him.

“Yes,” he concedes instead. “Which I appreciate.”

Tony opens his mouth, as if he’s about to let loose with another wave of complaints, but he just shuts it instead, and folds his arms over his chest, looking dejected for no reason the Soldier can puzzle through.

“You can’t dress like that, you’ll stand out,” he says instead. “It’s a club. Get some real clothes.”

“Thanks a lot,” the Soldier gripes. “You can blame your old man for this if you don’t like it. S’not like I get a say in what I wear.”

Tony stares, and frowns, and he’s been frowning so much these days. This time he can’t help himself, he reaches out and tousles Tony’s hair, and if anything, the frown deepens. But Tony leans into the touch, and his big brown eyes close, and he wraps his long, calloused fingers around the Soldier’s bionic wrist and just holds on for a moment before shrugging out of the contact, and shuffling off to his bedroom.

The Winter Soldier sighs, and watches him go. He has no idea what’s going on with Tony, and that terrifies him. It’s been obvious for a while now that it isn’t so much potential kidnappers, or armed mercenaries he has to worry about, it’s Tony himself.

He neglects himself in such spectacular ways sometimes that the Soldier isn’t sure how Howard and Maria sleep at night. Even scarier, he’s becoming convinced they just don’t see it, or want to see it, or… care? And if he’s feeling that way, how the hell is Tony feeling? And what the hell is he scheming, because there is no way he’s acting this cagey if all that is happening tomorrow is a trip to a nightclub.

The Soldier growls, and stomps back to the utility closet they call his room. Might as well inspect and clean his weapons, just in case. Oh, and come up with ‘real clothes’ somehow. It’s not like the Starks pay him. These are his problems, now.

“Thanks, HYDRA.”

+

“Here.” Clothes are shoved into his arms, and Tony fidgets, but smiles up at him, and how can he do anything but cave in. Tony sees it, too, because his eyes get brighter, and the smile becomes a little more real, and he says, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” he concedes, and Tony lets out a little whoop of triumph, bouncing on his heels.

“Well, c’mon, then,” this with an eyebrow waggle, Tony leaning back against the door, teeth worrying at his lower lip. The Soldier wants to do the same, because Tony’s lower lip is a crime against humanity.

“What, now?”

Tony makes a hand gesture that the Soldier supposes is meant to say, “well, yeah, of course  _now_ , when else?” The corner of his mouth is twitching, because he’s trying to hide that smile of his. It makes the Soldier’s stomach flutter uncomfortably. All of this—him and his inappropriate and unwanted feelings—needs to stop.

But maybe not today. Maybe tomorrow.

So he swallows, and tugs open the various straps and snaps and buttons of his uniform, and extracts himself, the arm whirring quietly, Tony’s eyes soft, lashes long and fluttering as he watches. He strips down to his briefs, feeling awkward and self conscious.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and feels stupid, because he hadn’t actually meant to say anything.

“Huh?” Tony seems to blink himself back to reality, eyes snapping up to meet the Soldier’s.

Nervously, he tugs up the too skinny jeans, buttons them, mouth quirked to the side. “Ah, the, um,” pulls the thin, too tight t-shirt over his head, “scars.”

And Tony pushes off the door, slides a warm hand up his back, up along the seam where metal meets flesh, does it again in reverse. “Don’t ever apologize for surviving,” he says, voice soft, intimate. “Or for stripping in front of me, because,  _damn_ ,” and this is more playful. “I’m liking this birthday so far.”

Which was unexpected. The Soldier’s eyes widen, but Tony isn’t looking at him, he’s grabbing a leather jacket off of the cot, handing it over. “Sorry, but the arm would sort of stand out. Believe me, I’d rather not cover it up.”

In retrospect, he should have known he was doomed.

+

Too many people. Too loud. Booze everywhere, but that doesn’t trouble him nearly as much as the other chemicals being circulated in this shitty nightclub. Clothing too tight, rubbing against his skin in unfamiliar ways, and leaving him feeling oddly edgey as a result.

Tony’s jacket has already gone missing, he’s glistening with a light sheen of sweat, and is more or less grinding up against a pretty girl, while some adonis meathead is coming increasingly close to doing the same to Tony. And yup, there he goes, sliding a hand onto Tony’s hip, and one onto the back of his neck, rocking himself against Tony’s ass, and no. Nope.

He’s got the guy by the stupid dog collar he’s worn out that night, feet dangling above the floor, while the girl scampers off, and Tony grabs his arm. “What the fuck,” he hisses, “you’re gonna ruin this.”

So he lets go, and the guy falls on his ass, with a shout of, “Your boyfriend is nuts, man!” before the Soldier glares at him, and he fucks right off. In fact, a lot of people are giving them a wide berth now, maybe because his hand has gone to the small of his back where he has a pistol.

Tony is just annoyed though. Pulls his hand back, then places it on his own hip, turning the odd encounter into a segue for dancing. “We already got kicked out of the last place. I’m never getting laid if you keep this up!”

“Excuse me!” He’s so shocked that he actually starts dancing with Tony, not realizing it. “This is why we’re out here?”

Tony rolls his eyes, and squirms close, getting his mouth up near the Soldier’s ear. “You’re so dense. Look, I’m a pathetic twenty-one year old virgin, and I can’t… I get it, now, I’m not the kind of guy anyone wants to spend a lot of time with, but I’m not bad looking. I’m willing to settle for a one night kind of thing, and that _is_ happening tonight, and you are fucking it up!”

The Soldier gasps, and holds on when Tony tries to squirm away, probably looking for another potential sexual partner. “The… the girl or the guy?” He bites into his own lip, because he hadn’t meant to ask that.

Tony gives him a challenging look. “Either. Or both. I don’t care.”

Which is interesting. Tony escapes his grasp, and storms off into the sea of bodies, and the Soldier stalks after him, because this is unacceptable. He can’t just do this with the first willing body, he should be with someone who cares, damn it.

His orders, though, don’t include protecting Tony from living his life and making his own choices. No matter how stupid they are. So he just watches, watches that brilliant, lonely young man buy a stranger a drink, and flirt while wearing a smile that doesn’t come anywhere near his eyes.

The guy is good looking, even though his dark hair is a little overstyled, and his eyes are too pretty, and he’s looking at Tony like he’s an all you can eat buffet.

And he’s okay with it, he’s doing great, hanging back and drinking his own drink, but then the guy puts his hand over Tony’s, his finger stroking against the delicate bone of Tony’s wrist, and he slams his drink down.

“No way,” he snaps, shoving the guy back with a palm against his chest.

“Oh, for the love of…”

“ _This_ guy?”

“Why not this guy?”

“He’s from Jersey, for a start!”

“Wow, really?”

“Uh, do you two…?”

“Shut up,” Tony and the Soldier suggested with equal vehemence, and so Tony’s potential ‘date’ raises his hands and backs away.

“What, you’re in charge of who I fuck, now, too?”

“If you’re gonna let that guy be the guy, then yeah, absolutely,” he insists.

Tony’s entire face goes through a series of expressions as if he’s trying different ones on for size, like shock, and anger, and maybe even happiness is in there. “So, who  _should_ the guy be?”

“Someone that cares, for a start,” he snarls. “That’ll know your real smiles from the fake ones, and gets how shitty and alone you can feel, like you’ve been separated from the rest of humanity. Somebody that’ll be respectful, and wanna stick around for more than a fuck, somebody that’ll love every bit of you, even the bits you don’t like about yourself, and who’ll protect you, and…”

He stopped himself there, because Tony’s smile had shifted into something else entirely. The Soldier took inventory of himself, realizing that he’d curled a hand around Tony’s waist, pulling him in close, hand settled at the small of Tony’s back, while the other is against the side of Tony’s face, tipping his chin up. They’re slotted together like puzzle pieces, Tony pressing into the embrace, his eyes bright.

“Me. How ‘bout me?”

And he didn’t mean to say that either, but now it’s too late, because Tony’s eyes widen in hope right before everything shudders, and shuts down, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not a complete scumbag,” he says, scowling.

The Soldier blinks. “Oh,” he says. “I…” but he doesn’t know how to say sorry for overstepping his bounds to such an extent. And what the hell was he expecting, anyway? For Tony to take him up on it? Sure, right. “Hey, creepy one-armed HYDRA reject, if you’re not too busy protecting me from walking into walls, want to take my virginity?” Not likely.

“You don’t even get a say in the clothes you wear,” Tony continues, and the Soldier looks down, ashamed. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d take advantage of you like that.”

“Wait, take advantage of  _me_?”

Tony has been shoving at his chest in an attempt to get out of his embrace, and getting nowhere, but now he stops and stares. “Yeah. Who else?”

“Tony, you do realize your dad only ordered me to keep you from getting shot or kidnapped, right? If he even knew I came out here with you, that I’d just offered to sleep with you, he’d probably phone up HYDRA and just ask if they want me back.”

Now Tony looks really confused. “Wait, so this isn’t… I thought you were all brainwashed, and, like, had to go along with whatever I said as long as it wasn’t going to kill me?”

“These days the brainwashing more or less just means I don’t remember a lot of my past,” he says, letting go so Tony can take a few steps back. “I, ah, I do the rest because I wanna.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut again, and grins wolfishly. “Wait, so staying up late to watch movies? All those hours down in my workshop? And, ah, letting me snuggle up to you on the couch? And braid your hair? All those dinners we went to?”

“Like I said,” he answers awkwardly, shrugging his shoulder, “because I wanna. But I get it, I’m a… I’m a hired goon, and too old for you, anyway. I just hate the idea of someone not appreciating what it is you’re givin’ them.”

His reflexes are in tip top shape, so if he had wanted to, he could have easily pushed Tony aside, but he stays still, and lets the smaller man push up against him, slotting their mouths together, feels those teeth against his own lip, and shudders.

In for a penny and all that, so why not just grab him by the back of his neck, and play with that crazy hair of his, and slide his tongue into Tony’s mouth, and kiss him good and proper, kiss the breath right out of him, kiss him until they’re clinging to each other and someone at the bar is wolf whistling.

“Yeah, okay, you, then,” Tony says, “you’re the one I wanted, anyway, James.”

And he shudders, because Tony is the only one who ever uses his name, he’s the one who dug it up out of Howard’s files, and gave it back to the Soldier, to begin with. He doesn’t even think of himself that way, except like this, maybe, right here with Tony in his arms he feels like James.

“But not tonight, though,” he answers, and Tony gawps, whines with disappointment. “I don’t do one night stands,” he says, “so we should, ah, take it just a bit slower, now that you know I’m not being ordered to pay attention to you. It’ll happen when it should happen.”

“Can there at least be more kissing?”

“Definitely,” he agrees.

Tony takes him up on that right away, then drags James out onto the dance floor.

“Best birthday ever!”


End file.
